


Hold Me Up

by Lovefushsia



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drunk John, First Kiss, M/M, needy John, sensible Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 18:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7812385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovefushsia/pseuds/Lovefushsia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have very vivid dreams. Sometimes... it’s hard to tell if it’s real or not.”</p><p>“What...” John had to stop, clear his throat. “What have you dreamed?”</p><p>“May I show you?” Sherlock asked. John could only nod, his heart in his throat.</p><p>Sherlock helps a drunk John upstairs and feelings are revealed as John begins to sober up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Up

John huffed out a breath as his back hit the wall but he had no time to react as Sherlock was right there in his face, patting his cheek and apologising profusely.

“‘S’ok... I’m fine, I can do thish,” he said, pushed away from the wall a little and felt Sherlock’s hand on his shoulder, nudging him backwards. John’s head went back against the wall and it knocked a little bit of soberness into him.

A hand cradled his head and when he opened his eyes Sherlock was still there, trying to get his arm around John’s waist.

“Come on, John, I’ve got you.”

“Are there stairs?” John asked, as he let Sherlock ease him away from the wall again.

“One or two. Unless you want Mrs Hudson to see you like this, then you’ll let me get you up them.” Sherlock didn’t sound upset, he sounded unusually calm and John really wanted his help, but he was struggling to focus on his feet to enable him to move one in front of the other.

“Come on,” Sherlock said again, “Let’s just take it slow this time.”

He tried, he really did. They got to the foot of the stairs and John tried to stop the giggles as he attempted the bottom step.

In the back of his mind he knew he was being irritating by not being able to walk or even stay on his feet without his friend holding him up. But he was severely lacking co-ordination after an ill-advised night in the pub.

“How d’you know where I’d be?” he thought hazily.

“I tried every one of your known haunts.”

“Y- you did?” John asked.

“If I’d found you earlier perhaps you would still be able to walk.”

John shook his head. “I only had one or two.”

“Gallons, John?”

John humphed at him and concentrated on how to make his toes work.

“Didn’t I ask you to tell me when you felt like this and I would have found someone for you to talk to?” Sherlock was saying, as he took a firmer hold on John’s elbow. He sounded different, upset? That couldn’t be right.

After some stumbles they made it to the landing and John still felt Sherlock’s hands supporting him as he moved them down the hallway. Finally, John was lying back against soft pillows and he let his eyes close. “Sorry, Sherlock,” he mumbled. He turned gratefully into the warm hand that touched his forehead.

“Sleep, John. I’ll be here.”

John sighed loudly and allowed the warmth of his friend’s words and the soft mattress to lull him.

***

“Sherlock.” John’s mumbled exclamation of his friend’s name made him stir even though he wasn’t quite sure where he was or what he was doing.

He rolled and tried to sit up and found himself on the floor on hands and knees and when he looked up Sherlock’s face came into view. “Uh,” he said.

“John, are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah of course,” John muttered, reaching for the side of the bed to get to his feet. He felt Sherlock’s hands take his weight and he helped him to sit. “Thanks, just give me a sec.” He looked around them, curious as to why Sherlock was there and realised they were in Sherlock’s bedroom. He stood up instantly, and far too quickly, and before he knew it he was on his knees again. “Oh.”

“Would you stop messing around and stay where you are?” Sherlock told him, crouching down so they were nearly eye to eye.  

John shook his head and closed his eyes. Strong hands grabbed him under the armpits and hauled him upwards again, pressing him into the wall. Sherlock’s concerned, “Are you all right?” was almost too much.

John was not all right. Things had gone from difficult to extreme in the world of John’s relationships and he knew he had turned to alcohol as a coping mechanism. Sherlock wasn’t there for him in the way that John dreamed he could be, and Mary – John couldn’t bear to hear her name even in his head. That half bottle of whiskey had seemed a good idea last night. Or earlier tonight. What time was it anyway?

“It’s bed time John.”

“Oh, is it?”

He started to slide downwards and Sherlock grabbed him, keeping him upright and John hit his head again. He groaned and felt Sherlock’s hand on his forehead, his breath close to his cheek as he said, “John, look at me.”

“Can’t.” If he looked at his friend he wouldn’t want to look away. He hadn’t been this close for too long. Hadn’t been close enough since...

Sherlock grabbed his shoulders, gave him a little nudge and John groaned again. “John, do I need to call a doctor? What is wrong with you?”

“I’m a dococtor,”

“A what?”

John giggled. Despite it all he giggled.

“Why were you moaning, and why are you laughing?” Sherlock asked, still too close; still too far away.

“Do it again,” he heard himself say.

“What?”

“Push me around.” No answer. John risked a look through narrowed eyes.

“I am not pushing you around, I’m trying to help you into bed,” Sherlock told him.

“I want you to –” What was he doing, what the hell was he thinking? “Sherlock, please, please,” he pushed on in a slightly slurred and certainly nowhere near one hundred percent sober voice. “Push me into this wall and kiss me.”

Sherlock didn’t speak, he didn’t move. His hands dropped to his sides and he took a step back.

John reached out for him, suddenly devastated. What the hell had he done? “No, don’t... don’t do that, I-”

“You what? Didn’t mean it? I’ve heard you talking in your sleep, John, I’ve seen the way you look at me. I certainly remember the things you asked me when we first met.”

John was taken aback, a little drunk still and now with nowhere to hide from memories that he had pushed down as far as possible. He had started this though. “Uh,” was the best he could do.

“I’m angry,” Sherlock told him. He didn’t look angry.

“Y-you are?” He had offended him. Again. Sherlock had no more interest in kissing John now than he had in the restaurant of their first dinner together. John had no right to expect anything. He had denied it all until he was like a broken record. But it was a lie. He may not be gay but he was something and he was so in love with his best friend that even drowning his feelings in alcohol had no effect.

Sherlock took a step closer and John had to crane his neck to see into his eyes. His heart was racing and his head was beginning to throb. He wanted his friend’s lips on his. He wanted to be slammed into the wall. He wanted to feel those large, warm hands on his body –

“I’m angry that you’ve chosen to admit this now, to tell me now, when you’re not thinking clearly,” he said.

“It’s clear as bloody day from here,” John heard himself say. “I want you, I want your hands on me.” He held his breath.

Sherlock blinked at him. He’d gone too far. There was little to no chance of Sherlock responding to that.

John closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. A moment later he knew Sherlock had moved away. John let out a sigh. Unbelievable. How had he let alcohol ruin this, just as his sister had done with so much of her life?

Then he felt the press of something against his shoulder and turned his head to see Sherlock standing beside him, leaning his back and head against the wall just as John was, arm pressed to John’s arm.

“Mmm?” he said.

Sherlock looked at him. “You couldn’t have waited to sober up? You couldn’t have waited until you were having a non-pub-related episode?”

“You, uh, you haven’t hit me.”

“What?”

“Or run away.”

“No John, of course not. You’ve been honest with me. I’ve been waiting for months for you to do this.”

“Oh, right.” John couldn’t stop the confusion in his voice. “Wow,” he said, and probably tomorrow when he replayed this little scene in his head and crushed his whole embarrassed self under his duvet to attempt to block it out, probably he would be thinking of a lot more he could be saying at this moment.

“I’ve had time to consider this. I just never thought I would ever hear you say it.”

John took another chance. “What have you thought about... thinking about me?”

Sherlock looked sidelong at him and John saw colour creep into his cheeks which made his heart race as he stared.

“I’ve tried to avoid it,” Sherlock finally said quietly.

John sighed. The answer made sense but it still hurt.

“Even so, you’ve crept into my dreams more often than not,” Sherlock added.

John raised his eyebrows and tried to hold himself still and calm despite the thrumming of adrenaline around his body. “I have?”

Sherlock nodded, turned slightly towards John at the waist. John wanted to bring him close, move their bodies together. He was beyond excited at this point, breathing heavily, eyes fixed on Sherlock’s. He definitely felt a little more sober now.

“I have very vivid dreams. Sometimes... it’s hard to tell if it’s real or not.”

“What...” John had to stop, clear his throat. “What have you dreamed?”

“May I show you?” Sherlock asked. John could only nod, his heart in his throat.

Sherlock pushed away from the wall a little and John swallowed hard as he came closer, filling his vision with beautiful pale skin and dark eyes, the edges surrounded by dark curls that John wanted to sink his hands into. John raised his face and Sherlock kissed him, holding John’s face in his hands, forcing him back into the wall, John’s head went back yet again and his legs began to quiver. He reached up and slid one hand into that luscious hair and their kiss deepened, lips parted, tongues touching and exploring and John held himself up with his other hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. Those hidden desires came rushing to the surface as they kissed. Their teeth collided lightly and he grinned helplessly against Sherlock’s mouth and found Sherlock nipping at his lower lip.

They came apart once more but John wasn’t ready and he lunged back for more, bringing Sherlock closer, mashing their lips back together.

When it was time to breathe properly, panting into each other’s mouths, they slipped apart. John kept his eyes closed as he put his forehead to Sherlock’s.

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock whispered.

John swallowed, opened his eyes enough to know he was awake, and asked, “What for?” in a heated voice he didn’t even recognise as his own.

“For not waiting until the morning.”

“I’m not complaining, believe me.”

Sherlock’s thumb caressed John’s cheek as they stayed close. He leaned into it, desperate for more of this and needing Sherlock to take the lead again. In his weakened state he was completely failing to stop his arousal from pressing against his friend’s thigh.

“I see that,” Sherlock murmured. “But I think we should wait,” he whispered. “I want you to be sure.”

John sighed and closed his eyes again. “You’re trying to kill me instead of kissing me?”

“Now who’s being melodramatic,” Sherlock said, and John felt his lips press lightly to his temple. He thought he would melt right there. “I didn’t say that more kissing was out of the question,” Sherlock added.

“Oh God, Sherlock,” John sighed out. “How are you so good at this?”

Sherlock didn’t answer, he took John’s hand and tugged until they were both sitting on the bed. John couldn’t stop himself then, he leaned in, tilted his head a little to avoid bumping noses, and then they were kissing again. Sherlock’s lips were plump and warm against his, hands crept back around each other and together they sprawled out into an embrace, lying side by side.

John could do this all night. He would deal with the emotional fall out later. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, with Sherlock by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> A(nother) first time fic. I can't help it, these keep coming to me. I also have serious issues with wall sex and that's where this almost went, but Sherlock was right to make them wait... at least for a few hours ;)


End file.
